


Interpretation is in the Mind of the Beholder

by Dreams of Kalopsia (Sir_Arghs_III)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Pick-Up Lines, Set Before the Last Scene of S07E13
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2020-11-25 20:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Arghs_III/pseuds/Dreams%20of%20Kalopsia
Summary: Context is hard to come by when the one who can give it doesn’t want it disclosed and the one who wants it is afraid of getting it.





	1. Timing

**Author's Note:**

> A [Fictober 2019](https://fictober-event.tumblr.com/post/187637998976/fictober-2019) project I'll probably finish _after_ October.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Message sent.
> 
> Prompt 25: “I could really eat something.”

Timing is everything.

And Pidge can’t seem to get it right.

See, _time_ makes sense to her; it’s universal, predictable, and measurable. When she plots spatial coordinates against a temporal point, she can pin down the exact place of anything in the universe.

_Timing_, though… It’s too relative, too susceptible to the influence of circumstances that can change at any time. It adds unpredictability and all kinds of confounding factors to the logical flow of space-time. That’s equivalent to inputting a value of 0.5 in Pidge’s mind, which operates in binaries of 0s and 1s; it leads to a parsing error that leaves her at a loss on what to do.

But timing is everything. It’s what got the current Team Voltron together and what makes them work so well as one unit. It’s what makes Shiro great at motivating and cheering people up. What makes Keith their best spy. What makes Hunk a master chef. What makes Lance a sharpshooter.

It’s what slapped Pidge in the face when she realized that she’d liked Lance for some time already—_after_ overhearing him rant about his feelings for Allura.

Timing is everything, but she learns it too late, and she doesn’t know how to proceed with that fact.

_“You have to talk to him,” _Shiro advises as they get ready to sleep in Green’s bunk room. _"At least for your peace of mind.”_

Okay. But maybe in the future. Far, far, _far_ ahead in space-time.

_“It’s Lance.”_ Keith shrugs when he teleports with Kosmo to check up on her and Shiro. _“Just walk up to him and tell him straight up.”_

No thanks, recklessness incarnate.

_“Love between two Paladins! Ah, how romantic!” _cries Coran while they restock their supplies in some obscure planet. _“Listen, Number Five. Eye contact is key. Stare at him and secrete your pheromones on full blast. Do you Earthlings have any mating calls? Any rituals?”_

Holy _quiznak_, Coran. No.

_“Look, the only way you’ll get to Lance is by using his own weapon against him,” _insists Hunk on another one of their stopovers, expression serious and large hands clasping her shoulders in support. _“Hit him with some really cheesy pick-up line. Something like, ‘Lance, you’re more than a snack; you’re a full meal.’”_

_Never_.

Four pieces of advice—one reasonable and three quite ridiculous—stay tucked at the back of her mind throughout their long journey home. Shiro’s right; she should tell Lance. That, and find the best timing for it. They’re still fighting a war, after all.

Pidge doesn’t tell him after their encounter with Bob; she’s too pissed and done with that interdimensional being to think about mellower stuff.

She doesn’t tell him when they fight off that space orca-lamprey thing that messed with their minds, deciding to wait until all the issues brought up during their delirium are addressed.

She doesn’t tell him when they reunite with everyone on Earth because Sendak has the planet conquered. Besides, how can she tell him right before setting off to take out the Zaiforge cannons, when Allura comes up to talk to him first?

Now Earth is safe, and Pidge is working herself to the bone prepping the Atlas to leave Earth, and Lance is still in the dark.

Has she missed her chance again? Well, she knows he likes Allura. This must be her sign—

“You there, Pidge?” Lance’s voice rings out in the empty engine control room, startling her out of her thoughts.

“Over here,” she calls back. In all honesty, she’d rather not see him before she’s come up with an action—or inaction—plan. But she’s already replied, and his footsteps already echo in the spacious room. Nothing to do but wait for him to reach her at the center of the computer maze.

Funny how someone with limited patience such as Pidge is always waiting and biding her time when it comes to Lance.

“I knew it.”

She glances at him over the computer she’s reconfiguring. He has a brow raised and a hand on his waist in classic nagging Lance fashion. “Knew what?”

“You forgot the time, didn’t you?”

“Did I miss something?” Impossible; every scheduled briefing or meeting has its own alarm in her phone.

“You missed lunch, Pidge. And dinner.”

She blinks, fingers pausing over the keyboard. Her eyes find the time at the corner of the screen. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Now let’s get you some food before you faint and we flip the Atlas over trying to find you.”

“That’s unnecessary,” she huffs but saves her work anyway. “Matt can just—”

“Of course it’s necessary,” he rebuts as they head out of the control room. “Never underestimate your ability to fall asleep in the weirdest places. Even Matt’s scanner won’t detect you.”

“Jerk.”

He laughs. The sound bounces off the walls of the room and her mind, nudging her friends’ words to the forefront of her thought processes.

_“Talk to him.”_

_“Just tell him straight up.”_

Pidge’s hands begin to sweat. Her heart picks up its pace. The words form in her mouth, but even if she contracts her lungs to pump them out, they just don’t want to be said.

She can’t tell him.

No, she can’t tell him. But she can drop a hint, right? Make him wonder, at least?

Timing is everything. To get a shot at someone who’s a master of it, she has to set the conditions up just right.

_“Use his own weapon against him.”_

Pidge sighs. She can’t believe she’s doing this.

“I could really eat something.” Curse you, Hunk.

“Sure could,” Lance quips, raising his hands to cradle his nape. “Anything you want in particular?”

She stops walking, and he follows suit, allowing her to look him in the eyes. “A snack,” she answers.

“A _snack_?” he repeats with a disapproving frown. “Pidge, you know snacks aren’t good for you.”

The window of opportunity opens. Pidge still can’t believe she’s resorting to this. She goes for the shot nonetheless.

A quick step back, followed by a crossing of arms.

“Pidge?”

A sweeping gaze of appraisal, scanning him from head to toe. An exaggeratedly slow bite at the corner of her lip sometime halfway.

A decisive nod—of approval or agreement, she’ll leave up to him.

Her eyes dart back to his. “A full meal, then.”

Lance’s eyes widen, jaw drops, arms fall limply to his sides. Judging by the way blood visibly rushes up to darken his entire face, she’ll say she’s hit her mark.

_“Eye contact is key!”_

With a lingering look as a finishing touch, she turns away and resumes walking towards the mess hall.

There. A hint. That’s all she’ll give until she’s ready to tell him. Or he starts dating Allura and she’s forced to give up. Or she gets over all of this. Whichever comes first.

Just this once, though, Pidge gladly subjects herself to uncertainty. Because as long as Lance doesn’t know for sure, she won’t be rejected for sure, either.


	2. Intuition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Message received.  
Interpreting... Please wait.
> 
> Prompt 2: “Just follow me, I know the area.”

_“A full meal, then.”_

A full meal.

A _full _meal.

A full _meal_.

What did she mean by _a full meal_?!

In the literal sense, of course, Lance understands what Pidge meant. But her delivery… The way she stepped back to eye him up and down, the lip-biting, those four words, that last longer-than-normal look before turning—

There’s just no way he can take that literally!

It must’ve been a joke. Something to rile him up and mess with his mind because… just because. Pidge is more of a pun type of person like Hunk, not the pick-up line type like Lance, so it was most likely a poorly timed joke she just forgot to clarify as a joke. Uh huh. A joke.

_That’s all it was_, Lance determines, if only to stop himself from blushing every time he thinks about it.

When she shows up to breakfast the next day, he nearly falls from his seat out of shock. So do Hunk and Keith, who’ve never seen her awake before 10:00 unless absolutely necessary. When she shows up to lunch, he scoots over to give her space, glad that she’s finally eating healthily but perplexed with the drastic change. When she shows up to dinner still, he exchanges confused glances with Shiro, Keith, and Hunk. A Pidge who sticks to a proper eating schedule is a Pidge they’ve yet to meet. Well, until now.

Then she does the same thing the next day. And the next. And the next.

For a whole month and counting since that… that… since _then_, Pidge has been present at every mealtime, and Lance is bewildered.

But it’s not her perfect attendance that makes him feel like spontaneously combusting thrice a day; it’s the fact that their eyes always seem to meet at the most _awkward_ times. Like while the spork slides between her lips as she pulls it out of her mouth. Or the exact moment she takes in a sporkful of food. Or when she says, “Thanks for the meal.”—which she _never_ used to do. Or as she’s licking peanut butter off of her spoon, that one time Hunk gathered enough ingredients to make her some.

Lance knows he’s overthinking things. Really. He feels silly for every overreaction, especially since Pidge isn’t remotely affected by what she said, whether she was aware of its implications or not.

But what the _heck_ did she mean by a full meal?

One month and counting, and he still has no idea.

One month and counting, and all the speculating is slowly driving him crazy.

_“She said that?”_ Without really waiting for an answer, Hunk bursts into belly laughter. He shakes his head, still chuckling. _“Oh boy.”_

It’s _not_ a laughing matter, Hunk.

_“What does that even mean?”_ Keith asks back, the context of Lance’s dilemma completely lost on him.

Shouldn’t have asked this guy.

_“A meal, you say?”_ Coran strokes his mustache thoughtfully while Romelle tilts her head sideward, index finger to her chin. _“Does Pidge want to eat you, Lance?”_

_Romelle_!!

_“Why don’t you ask her about it?”_ Shiro suggests.

And look stupid and assuming? No way. Lance isn’t that kind of person anymore.

_“Does it matter? You like the alien princess, don’t you? She seems to like you back.”_ Veronica’s point sobers him up, like a splash of cold water dousing the flustered flush that constantly warmed his cheeks the past month.

She’s right.

He likes _Allura_.

If Pidge means anything other than the literal sense… he’ll have to turn her down, won’t he? For some reason, that scenario settles as heavy lead in his stomach. So Lance chooses the scenario that doesn’t: Pidge was _definitely_ joking.

* * *

It was just a joke, and yet his hyperawareness of Pidge intensifies over the following weeks. Mealtimes have become the least of his troubles. The bigger ones are the times he should’ve been acting normal around her but ends up failing.

In short, all the time.

Pidge will ask him to hand her something, and he’ll freeze up, losing his grip on the thing whenever their fingers accidentally brush.

_“You should get your hand checked,”_ she’ll say with a frustrated sigh before picking up whatever he’s dropped.

His hand is fine, thank you.

A fan will ask him if there’s someone he likes, and his eyes will steal a glance at Pidge’s reaction first instead of searching for Allura in the crowd. He’s not sure why he does it; Pidge is looking the other way or talking to someone else every time.

He’ll see her face light up before running towards him, and his heart will stop for a beat, only to continue in a sluggish, disappointed rhythm when she passes him by to greet Matt. Or her parents. Or Shiro. Or anyone from Team Voltron not Lance. (Not that he’s feeling left out. Not at all.)

She’ll pull him into a celebratory hug when they beat another pre-Galra invasion videogame, and he’ll pull away a little too early, a little too quickly. He’ll berate himself internally each time, but… he does it again and again. It’s hard not to, okay? Hugging a friend in a dimly lit room can make _anyone_ think weird thoughts.

He hears her voice or catches a glimpse of her, and he feels like bolting in the opposite direction. He doesn’t hear or see her, and he wonders where she is. He’s worried she’ll start acting weird but is unsettled that she isn’t.

At this point, there’s no use denying that this is a problem. This is a _Lance_ problem, stemming from his misinterpretation of four harmless words. Turns out he’s not as over that issue as he thinks.

And it’s not fair. To himself, to Pidge—his _friend_, and to Allura—the _person he likes_.

That’s why he’s trying to track Pidge down. Trying, because she’s not with Green, her family, Beezer, Allura, Coran, Romelle, Shay, the other Paladins, or the Olkari. She’s not in the engine control room, the bridge, the mess hall, the Komar robeast’s research lab, the briefing and conference rooms. Heck, she’s not even in her room!

He’s just about to consider borrowing Matt’s scanner when he finally finds her.

Sneaking into the Atlas’ hangar containing the regular pods, big backpack and all.

The wave of déjà vu takes him back to the night Team Voltron first assembled. More than a year later, and he’s sneaking in after Pidge again. Lance’s eyes narrow. _What is she up to _now_?_

Pidge has her headphones on and seems to be deep in thought. He approaches with stealthy steps, curious about her intentions, but an elbow shoots up towards his sternum, its owner pivoting on one foot to adopt a defensive stance. If he hasn’t been training as a Paladin for as long as he has, he wouldn’t have the reflexes to deflect it. And he’ll probably drop to the floor, like, five seconds ago.

“Lance,” she says, quickly straightening up.

He forces himself to ignore the breathy way she called his name.

She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that. What are _you_ doing in the pod bay?”

Her expression turns into one that’s obviously calculating how much of the truth she can get away with hiding.

Well, he’s not accepting anything less than the whole truth. He crosses his arms and raises an expectant brow to tell her so.

The message gets across; a resigned sigh escapes her. “Fine. I’m here to borrow a pod. Dad, Shiro, and Keith have just settled on a launch date, and I uh…” At this, she looks out to the rows of pods to her right. “I wanted to see a sunset before we leave for space again. Incognito.”

Her answer sends a shock through him. Pidge and _sunsets_? The world must be ending. Oh, wait. The universe _is_ at risk of ending because of Haggar. Right.

Still, his legs move by themselves, walking briskly to the nearest pod before his mind can consider whether Pidge wants him to accompany her or not.

“Where are you go—?”

“Just follow me. I know an area.” He takes the pilot’s seat and waits for her to settle into the adjacent seat.

She shoots him a sly smirk. “You just want to show off your hometown, don’t you?”

“Who cares?” He shrugs his shoulders uncaringly, maneuvering the pod for launching. “It has the best sunset view on the planet, anyway.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Great. That way you’ll have no choice but admit it to me out loud.”

“—Admit what?” The eerie calmness of her voice catches his attention. He studies her in the ten seconds it takes the launch sequence to finish: body tense, face blank but pale, clenched fists turning her knuckles white. It’s clear she’s misinterpreting something in his words.

“Admit I’m right and sunsets are as beautiful as your mathematical codes,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” Her whole body eases up in an instant, and she relaxes into her seat as they take off for Varadero Beach.

The pod is quiet save for the hum of its engines. With the flight path set, pod on autopilot, and Pidge adamantly silent, there’s nothing for Lance to do but contemplate on things.

Misinterpretations. These past months have been one misinterpretation after another. Lance wishes he wouldn’t read too much into anything Pidge does, and yet even as he repeatedly tells himself that he’s just misunderstood her joke, the niggling feeling that he hasn’t remained dormant somewhere in his mind. Is that why he can’t stop thinking about it? Is it his subconscious that spurred him into tagging along with Pidge before he can hesitate and back out of talking to her? He doesn’t know. It’s all so confusing!

Whoever said that ignorance is bliss is a _liar_.

“What’s our ETA?” His head swivels towards Pidge.

“Huh?”

“Our ETA,” she repeats. “We’re chasing a sunset. It’ll be pretty useless if we don’t catch it, you know?”

Lance sniffs. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I _know_ the place. We’re almost there, actually.” True to his word, the autopilot sign blinks out. He grasps the controls, beginning their descent to his favorite place on Earth.

The familiar blend of turquoise, sapphire, and aquamarine waters greets them from below, cresting waves sparkling like precious stones under the afternoon sun. Swaying palm trees speckle the white, sandy beach lining the town; Lance can already smell the salt in the air despite the pod’s air conditioning. Varadero Beach is as beautiful as he remembers. Only the few remaining fragments of Galra ships and the new alien establishments indicate how much it has changed.

But he’s back now, and he has all plans of reacquainting himself with his hometown.

“Welcome to Varadero, Pidge,” he says proudly as he prepares to land. “Any first impressions?”

“The sun is everywhere and I’m glad I brought sunblock,” comes her dry response, but her bright eyes and wide grin betray her excitement.

Lance can’t help grinning back. He powers down the pod and leads Pidge out onto the sand. “Let’s explore a bit before sunset, then.”

This far away from the Galaxy Garrison, where most of the people they know are based, humans and aliens take longer to recognize Pidge and Lance. Brush her hair for five minutes, ruffle his for two, and transfer her glasses to perch on his nose, and they’re practically under the radar wandering about town.

Business is in full intergalactic swing. Any worry Lance has been harboring since coming back to find Earth under Sendak’s control dissipates as the afternoon wears on. Witnessing Pidge _aggressively_ haggle and buy everything that piques her interest helps lift his mood further. Her ability to fit the load of souvenirs into her already overflowing bag must be some sort of mathematical magic.

On a whim, he takes the now-heavy backpack from her and slings it over his shoulders. Pidge turns towards him. There’s pleased surprise arching her brows, softness lighting up her eyes, a slight flush tinting her cheeks, and gratitude widening her smile. It’s a look Lance has never gotten from her. Ever.

It takes his breath away.

And the Lance problem becomes a _crisis_.

The sirens in his mind wail that he can’t keep this up, and he agrees. He has to clear things up with Pidge before his overthinking puts their friendship in jeopardy. He’s not losing a friend because of some misinterpreted words.

“Is this it? Your aunts’ pizza shack?” Pidge asks when he sets her bag down. She takes out a large blanket from it.

“What used to be their pizza shack,” he corrects, glancing at the ruins behind them. Half of the foundations survived the Galra invasion, but his aunts haven’t decided when they’ll rebuild it, if at all. Right now, they’re with family, relishing the peace after three years of violence and oppression.

Pidge makes herself comfortable on the blanket. “Then this is the exact location of the best sunset view on Earth?” She resumes her inventory: sunblock, bottles of water, sandwiches with what seem like peanut butter and jelly.

“Yup.” Taking the proffered sandwich as permission, Lance sits down beside her.

They’re at the perfect place at the perfect time. This part of the beach is still under major repairs, and they’re the only ones for hundreds of yards on end. The late afternoon sun sits coquettishly over the horizon, making the blue sky blush a deep red. The sea breeze flutters Lance’s uniform and caresses his face, its salty tang tickling his nose. He closes his eyes.

This is his definition of peace. Sunset by the beach, warm zephyr blowing by, rustles of palm trees, crashing waves.

Rummaging noises to his left. “Aha!”

His eyes pop open. “Wha—” Then he sees the cause of Pidge’s triumphant cry. “Is that a camera?”

Pidge nods eagerly. “I built it specifically to capture a sunset, in case it turns out as beautiful as you insisted.” She mounts said camera on a tripod. “It’s a good thing you brought me here; I can take a new photo and return the one you gave me.”

His chest begins to twinge at her revelation. “You kept it?” It’s the last photo he took before leaving Cuba for the Garrison, which he gave her during their argument about sunsets in an attempt to prove his point. He’s always assumed it was left behind in the Castle or lost in space.

She blinks confused eyes at him. “Why wouldn’t I? It seemed really important to you.”

Pidge… cares about him? Wait, _of_ _course_ she does; they’re friends. But it’s never occurred to him that what’s important to him would also matter to her, or that she’d even notice things like that, or that she’d make an effort to see things from his perspective, or that she’d go an extra mile for his sake.

The twinging explodes into an overwhelming ache to ask her, talk to her. Lance takes off her glasses, purses his lips, and faces her fully. “Pidge, we need to ta—”

“No.” He flinches at the vehemence of her reply, and she shifts in her seat to tuck her knees under her arms. “Not now,” she continues in a softer tone, “I’m here to watch the sunset. This may be the last time I get to do it—at least in a long while.” A rather strong breeze blows past them, causing her to shut her eyes briefly.

Pidge is like those physics exam questions he just can’t solve. He can stare at them, read them any which way, but he always seems to miss something. If he stares at her long enough, will she start to make sense to him? Will he find a solution to this?

“The sunset’s on your three, Lance,” she mutters, gaze not straying from the setting sun.

He turns his head accordingly but continues to watch her from the corner of his eyes. The sun colors her in fiery shades of red and orange. A small smile tugs her lips upward, and her eyes have a sheen that seems to brighten the more the sun sinks below the horizon.

Eventually, the sky darkens to let stars shine through. Pidge moves to stand. Lance thinks he saw her furtively wipe her cheeks as she got up, but he can’t be too sure, so he helps her pack up without comment.

Though the trip back to the Garrison is as quiet as when they first set out, there’s a certain melancholy to the silence that pervades the pod this time. Maybe it’s from seeing the day end. Lance has always found sunsets beautiful but also bittersweet. Does Pidge think of them the same, now that she’s seen one? He adds the question to the list of things he’ll ask her once they talk tomorrow.

His fingers tighten around the controls.

Be proven right and reject her feelings, or be proven wrong and swallow his disappointment. Those are the possible outcomes of their talk. It can go either way. But if he has the liberty to choose the outcome, he’ll choose his disappointment over Pidge’s every time.

Well, that’s still for tomorrow. Until then, he intends to dispel the sad mood by surrounding himself and Pidge with as many people as possible. He goes left, into the hallway leading to the mess hall.

Pidge doesn’t follow.

She’s already headed down the opposite hallway when he turns back, and he reaches out just in time to grab her hand. “Whoa, Pidge! The mess hall’s this way.”

Her steps pause. He hears her exhale before facing him. “I think,” she begins, gently sliding her hand off of his, “I’ll skip dinner tonight.” She gives him a fleeting smile. “Thanks for tagging along today, Lance.” Then she leaves him at the hallway junction, his arm still outstretched.

Lance can feel that something’s shifted, but also that nothing’s changed.

More than that, he can feel that he’s losing Pidge. It’s the kind of feeling that wrenches at his heart and twists his stomach into a painful knot. A gut feeling.

And if there’s one thing he’s learned well while defending the universe as a Paladin, it’s that his intuition is almost always right.

The next day, Pidge doesn’t show up for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.

Lance doesn’t see her for a whole week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading IIITMOTB! ^u^ I didn't think Lance's part would end up this long, but it was just too much fun to explore. XD I have a few more parts planned, though I'm not sure I'll be able to finish them all for Fictober. Here are the prompts, anyway:
> 
> “You could talk about it, you know?”  
“Change is annoyingly difficult.”  
“There is just something about them."  
“I know you didn’t ask for this.”  
“Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”  
“I’m with you, you know that.”
> 
> Can you guess who will say who? ;) Again, thanks so much for reading!


	3. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.
> 
> Prompt 20: “You could talk about it, you know?”

“I want to be grounded.”

Colleen looks at her daughter, hand frozen mid-check on her clipboard. “Grounded?” she confirms quite uselessly, seeing as Katie’s expression is as determined as when she announced her plan to infiltrate the Galaxy Garrison years ago. “Katie ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Mom’, Katie ‘I went to space to find Dad and Matt without telling Mom and ended up being some defender of the universe’ Holt, _grounded_?”

Katie rolls her eyes. “You’re my mom. You have the authority.”

“Which you have no trouble disregarding at your convenience.”

“…I go by Katie ‘I want to be grounded and won’t disregard your authority anymore’ Holt now.”

Colleen crosses her arm under the one carrying the clipboard. “What good would that do?” she asks, intrigued but suspicious. No teenager _ever_ asks to be grounded, much less her daughter, who is as stubborn and defiant as she is.

“I’ll be forced to stay under your supervision the whole day, except for Paladin missions. Plus you get an assistant in your molecular botany lab.”

She arches her brows. “You make it sound like spending time with your mother is burdensome,” she says neutrally to veil the sting from her daughter’s words.

Before any hurt sinks in, however, Katie rushes to hug her. “I’m sorry! I was just trying to make the deal more appealing than it is.” The arms wrapped around her tighten. “Of course I love spending time with you.”

Appeased, Colleen smooths down her daughter’s hair in gentle strokes. “But you have to be grounded to do it?”

“No…” Katie answers.

Silent seconds pass before Colleen realizes that no explanation will follow.

She sets her clipboard down on a nearby table and returns her daughter’s embrace. “You can talk to me about it, you know? Whatever made you want to be grounded.”

A heavy sigh warms her shoulder, sounding part content and mostly resigned. “There’s nothing to say about it. I did nothing, nothing happened, nothing will ever come of it, and so it’s best for me to just give up.”

Colleen takes a few moments to analyze Katie’s words.

Hopeless and easy to give up are not words attributable to her headstrong, proactive daughter. Whatever this matter is, there must have been a strong and valid reason for Katie to stay her hand and resort to inaction rather than push for a resolution.

Katie has not been in this state since a bully called her out in class for being smarter than everyone else. Given that her daughter is now a Paladin respected and renowned throughout the universe, Colleen hardly thinks that any right-minded entity will ever try to intimidate Katie. Following this logic, a bullying issue can be ruled out.

Colleen’s hand proceeds to fiddle with her daughter’s hair as she analyzes further. It seems that Katie passed up a rare chance for something she truly wants, and she has somehow come to the conclusion that being grounded can make her give up on it. But this is _Katie_, one of the most thorough people Colleen has ever known. To her daughter, anything accomplished in straightforward steps and single-layered precautions is doomed to fail or break in time.

There’s more to being grounded, then. It must be a mere means to an end. And the end…

The end is having the excuse to avoid people.

Colleen’s hand stills. In a soft voice, she asks, “Are you avoiding someone, Katie?”

The first answer comes when her daughter jolts against her. The second comes as a murmured, hesitant “…Yeah.”

“And you believe that if you avoid them, you’ll be able to give up as you planned?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it because you’re trying to give up on this person you’re trying to avoid?”

A nod on her shoulder.

_So that’s how it is._ She sighs. “I’ll ground you seriously, you know? You did run away from home.”

“Mm.”

“You’ll regret this once I start teasing you in public.”

That gets a rueful chuckle out of Katie, and the melancholy timbre prickles the corners of Colleen’s eyes with tears. “I guess I will, huh?” Katie is forcing herself to give up on someone she so clearly likes by taking drastic measures just to avoid them. Colleen can only hope that the reason justifies the happiness it has cost her daughter.

“You’re giving me license to probe around for information on this person’s identity.”

“That’s fine.”

Coleen pulls away to look into her daughter’s eyes. Bright as they are, the unspeakable horrors and losses they have witnessed in this war will forever change the way they shine. While the flecks of curiosity, intelligence, and kindness remain, the gloss of innocence, naivety, and freedom have been replaced by the clarity of wisdom, determination, and responsibility. Katie has grown so much in the years since she left home, and Colleen is sorry for her involuntary absence through all of them.

For years, the whole universe has depended on Katie for protection, and she has always delivered. This time, Katie is looking to her mother for comfort and support. Colleen will make sure to deliver as well.

“Alright,” Colleen says, “You’re grounded, young lady.” She kisses her daughter’s forehead as some gesture to make her decision official. She kisses both cheeks just because she wants to. Then she kisses Katie’s nose to make her laugh.

Sure enough, and to Colleen’s joy, Katie bursts into a fit of giggles. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anything for you, Katie. But on the off chance this person so much as _tries_ to upset you, I have a full arsenal of flora at my disposal to make them _regret_ it.”

“Mom!”

“I know. I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :) Since I'm posting this past October, I'm not sure whether to continue cross-posting on Tumblr or not. If ever I do, you'll probably see me posting Fictober prompt fills for this fic well into November. In any case, please bear with me! ^u^
> 
> Next up: Hunk.


	4. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk is 100% done.
> 
> Prompt 21: “Change is annoyingly difficult.”

Hunk senses something wrong the moment he lays eyes on his best friend. Lance is sitting alone at their usual table, elbow propped and sulking face resting heavily on his fist. His other hand pokes at his food with a spork.

“Stop that,” Hunk scolds as he takes the seat across, carefully placing his lasagna-laden tray on the table.

Lance stops. But only to give him a sullen glance.

He shakes his head in annoyance. That’s when he sees the half-finished tray of food beside his friend’s. Everything clicks in his mind.

Pidge was called away again.

“Who was it this time?” he asks without preamble.

Lance’s answer is a grumbled “MFE pilots.”

“Aww man, again?” Hunk groans. “We don’t see Pidge her first week of being grounded. She gets a little leeway, and Sam, Matt, and Slav drag her around with them for days. They finish whatever they were doing, and the MFE Division takes her away—with me, because apparently they’re big fans of Voltron’s tech team, but that’s beside the point—and _now_ the MFE pilots want something from her again?” He throws his hands up. “What about us? We haven’t hung out for weeks!” He then points at Pidge’s tray. “Pidge didn’t even enjoy her food long enough to realize _I_ made it, in celebration of our supposed hang out day!”

Another grumble. The weak reaction aggravates Hunk, and he crosses his arms.

“You didn’t notice either, did you.” A statement because his friend clearly hasn’t. “I’ll assume it’s due to Pidge bailing out on us and not my culinary skills.”

No response other than louder stabby noises and a sulkier Lance.

“Ugh. I miss her!” he gripes. “Don’t you?”

A flash of regret crosses Lance’s face.

It’s a stark contrast to the confused, embarrassed blushes he’s had for the past two months or so. Hunk can’t remember exactly when he began seeing the expression, but he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen it on his friend until around three weeks ago. At first, he thought it was because Allura’s been spending most of her time with Romelle and Coran in the hospital wing, waiting for the Altean pilot of that Komar-robeast to regain consciousness. He didn’t even connect anything when news of scary Mrs. Holt grounding the _Green Paladin of Voltron_ first reached their ears. But after repeatedly watching Lance make that expression at every mention of Pidge, Hunk is now sure that it’s a Pidge issue his best friend is having.

And he thinks he has enough facts to put together to figure out what’s been happening with his friends.

Fact number one: Pidge likes Lance. She told Hunk herself.

Fact number two: She used Hunk’s cheesy, thoughtless pick-up line—a fact that will forever crack him up—on his best friend. Lance told him himself.

Fact number three: Lance also said that he’d tried asking Pidge about what she meant but ended up taking her to Varadero for sunset watching instead. How he managed to turn an impending serious talk into a day trip, Hunk will never know.

Fact number four: Pidge was grounded the day after and disappeared for a week.

Fact number five: She’s been spending less time with Hunk and Lance since her reappearance. Okay, no. For the benefit of the doubt, Hunk will allow that she’s become so busy she barely has time to hang out. That still implicates her because she _doesn’t_ make time for them. She’s not the only busy Paladin on Earth, after all; if he and Lance can do it, she should’ve been able to do it, too. So the benefit of the doubt doesn’t work for her… well, _benefit_.

Sooo something happened in Varadero convincing Pidge that Lance rejected her, hence why she’s limiting her interactions with him without making it obvious that she is—which, contrary to what she believes, she’s being _totally_ obvious about.

_“I wasn’t rejected, Hunk. I just decided to give up on him,”_ Pidge said around a mouthful of peanut butter cookies he’d given as secret bribe, during one of their breaks from upgrading the MFE units last week.

Give up? On Lance? As if.

As if Hunk doesn’t catch the longing glances she’d send their friend when she thinks everyone’s too distracted to notice. As if she doesn’t stare after Lance with a regretful expression on her face the exact same way he sees Lance do.

_Yeah._

He chomps grumpily on a heaping spork of lasagna.

_As if._

Hunk hates that he’s the only one who notices stuff like this. He _hates _it. But what he hates more is his inability to leave ostensibly well enough alone once his gut tells him that something’s off. And what he hates most is his perceived, reluctant duty to be the voice of reason that points everything out to everyone else. Because that’s how he ends up standing right in the middle of things whether he likes it or not, how he unwittingly advertises himself as mediator when things turn out to be a full-blown conflict.

It’s exhausting sometimes. Getting to say ‘I told you so!’ loses its vindicating satisfaction when one gets to do it all the time. Still, bringing up an issue so the people involved can address and resolve it is an awkward task he’d willingly undertake if it means they’d all get along again.

But that’s the problem with the current thing he’s embroiled in. There’s _no_ issue. No conflict, no falling-out, no friendship broken. Just Pidge dealing with rejection in the maturest manner Hunk has seen from her and Lance acting like he’s lost her even though she never left in the first place.

It’s like watching two people dance expertly around each other. Except one twirls in pirouettes of classical ballet, the other breaks it down with hip hop moves, and neither of them is aware of dancing at all. As a frustrated spectator on the sidelines, Hunk is honestly starting to worry that his motion sickness will return one of these days.

A resounding stabbing sound causes him to jerk his head up towards the source. He finds Lance staring out onto the hallway beyond the mess hall’s window, fingers frozen and tines of his spork impaling a slice of lasagna rather morbidly. Following his friend’s gaze leads Hunk’s eyes to Pidge, who’s talking animatedly with Nadia and James.

Oh boy. _Great_ timing, Pidge.

She meets their gazes and sends them a genuine, apologetic look, but she doesn’t spare them a minute to give an actual apology. In three seconds, she’s walked past the windows, disappearing on them again. She makes it look so easy.

“Gotta admit, that one hurts a bit,” Hunk says with a wry smile. His best friend releases a miserable sigh at the same time. He turns back to Lance in surprise. “Chill, dude! It’s just one missed hang out day. No need to be _that_ dejected.”

The stabby noises resume with increased force. He resumes eating his food.

“Look, you’re being dramatic. It’s not as bad as that time Eliza Moreno rejected you—no, no,” he corrects himself, “You didn’t really like her; you just liked flustering her. Okay, so not as bad as when Noelle Page dumped—”

“I dumped her.” Whoa, a response, albeit grumpy.

“Yeah?” Memories of that messy one-sided breakup resurface in his mind. “Yeah, right!” He slaps his forehead. “How could I forget! Remember how she waited crying outside our bunk room until you talked to her? Even our COs couldn’t take her away.”

Lance’s sulky frown deepens. “I don’t think anyone could forget.”

“So not as bad as when Mila Chen—”

“She was over me by the time I became fighter class.”

“Oh. What about when Sophie Carson—”

“Turned out to like Madison Boyer?”

“…That didn’t bother you? You were courting her for some time, right?”

“To help make Maddie jealous and confess to her.”

“Ooh. An ally, I see.” Hunk raises his cup to his friend, impressed by this inside info.

Lance just scoffs.

“Okay, wait. I’m _sure_ about this: _Jenny Shaybon_. The only Jenny who ever mattered to you. You had a really good thing going on for over a year before she left the Garrison to chase her dreams.”

“We parted as friends.”

“You did?” Hunk pouts, then sighs. “So I guess it’s not as bad as when Allura and Lo—” Lance strikes the table with his palms.

“Why are you going through my romantic history, Hunk?” he demands, still miserable but now also fed up. “Just tell me what your point is.”

“My point is that you don’t have to feel as bad about a missed get-together as a failed relationship.”

Though Hunk’s tone is placating throughout his explanation, his best friend shoots him an affronted look. “First of all, my relationship with Allura hasn’t failed; it’s actually just about to _start_. Secondly, I don’t feel as bad about this as you think.”

“So stop looking like you do.” The words seem to strike Lance like a direct, physical hit, and Hunk has this acute feeling that he just said the wrong thing at the worst possible time.

But why?

Before Hunk can begin to figure out what he said wrong, Lance gathers his and Pidge’s trays and quietly stands up.

“Uhh, where are you going?”

“I’m heading back to my room. Sorry, Hunk. Let’s hang out another day.” Lance walks out of the mess hall without another word, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

“…Wow. Left behind _twice_ today,” Hunk grouses once he’s alone. “Leave me a third time, why don’t you. I feel the love.” He chews angrily while preparing for another bite. “What was that for, anyway? I just pointed out what I see.”

Why’s Lance so touchy when it comes to Pidge? She may (pretend to) have given up on her feelings for him, but it’s not like she’ll ever give up on their friendship. Besides, it’s not like he knows about how she feels. Oblivious when it matters, that guy. And yet he acts all broody as if he’s the one who got—

A sudden idea skews Hunk’s perspective and with it his spork of lasagna. The chunk falls with a small splat on the table. The metallic clatter of spork hitting food tray follows soon after.

The way Lance acts whenever Pidge is mentioned…

It’s as if _he’s_ the one who got rejected.

“Hoooly crow,” Hunk mutters to himself, palms finding their way to his temples. “What?!”

He knows not when the change in his friend happened, only that it did. He also knows that it complicates everything. It adds unannounced contraflow lanes to a one-way expressway. It flips the script on itself after getting flipped once already. It turns a straight line into a triangle.

And this change…

“…is annoyingly _difficult_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you guys think! :)
> 
> Names of Lance's non-canon exes are credited to the talented [artemisarya](https://artemisarya.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. ^u^


	5. Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pachoo pachoo. Shots fired.
> 
> Prompt 17: “There is just something about them.”

The rumors are true: Commander Holt’s daughter is a genius.

She can beat any Earth videogame. Can store galaxies’ worth of tech info in her brain. Can hack into anything that runs on codes. Can master anything remotely mathematical or scientific. Can head and complete the repairs of all MFE units, come up with upgrades, and finish installing them in a month. Can pilot an interdimensional, sentient, robotic Lion. Can fight and beat almost anyone bigger than her—which, with her height, is a lot of people.

But she can’t fire a gun to save her life.

Nadia gapes at said genius. “What.”

“You heard me.”

“That’s quite hard to believe,” James chimes in. “You’ve been fighting in a war for years.”

Pidge shrugs as she taps on her tablet to run a systems check on Ryan’s unit. “I have my brain, my bayard, and Green. They’ve kept me alive so far.”

“I’ve seen your bayard. It’s just a short blade with a grapple and static discharge.”

“Works just fine for me. For the most part.”

“But long-range weapons give offensive power while providing distance and cover,” Ryan argues, to the team’s agreement.

“Short-range weapons and grapples require contact. Larger enemies will overpower you,” Ina says. “Pistol-sized blasters would work best for you; you should try it.”

An idea sparks to life in Nadia’s brain. She looks at Ina. Then at Pidge. Then at the others. Then she grins. “Let’s do it. With us as your teachers, you’ll be wielding a gun in under a _week_.”

Pidge sends back a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah?”

She plants her hands on her hips. “Wanna bet?”

* * *

Nadia, of course, wins. Because as she said, Commander Holt’s daughter, Katie Holt, is a genius.

Five days of putting up with James and Ryan’s great demos but useless explanations, absorbing Ina’s breakdown of the principles of aiming and shooting, and following Nadia’s strict instructions on posture and aim, and Pidge is at the Garrison’s shooting range, blasting target after target at the final stage of her expert-level shooting course.

Watching from a safe distance behind Pidge, Nadia puffs out her chest. She turns to her team. “What did I tell you guys?”

“She’ll be wielding a gun in under a week,” Ina supplies.

“She’s a genius,” Ryan answers next.

James releases a long sigh before replying, “This will be fun.”

Nadia nods smugly to each response. “And I was right.” She directs her attention back to Pidge, who’s just about to finish the stage.

“Really makes me wonder why she never learned,” James comments after a while. “Two of her teammates use long-range weapons.”

“Ask one of them yourself.”

At Ryan’s words, they all turn towards the entrance. Lance has just entered and is approaching them with a friendly smile.

Nadia hasn’t hung out with him as much as she has with Pidge or Hunk, but she’s heard a lot about him. Seems like a nice, fun guy. And since those two like him so much, then by transitivity, she likes him, too.

She smiles when he reaches them. “Lance! What’s up?”

“Hey, guys,” he greets. “Have any of you seen Pidge? Shiro sent me to get her.”

“Pidge? Oh, you mean…” She jerks a thumb behind her and raises her voice. “…the badass over there firing a gun like a pro?”

Pidge curses. Nadia turns just in time to see her miss a quickly moving target. “Nadia! Don’t distract me!” she shouts as she fixes her aim.

Nadia laughs, stepping a bit to the left to give Lance a better view. He looks dazed watching Pidge hit every target with ease. Even if her back is towards them, her confidence is obvious in her relaxed posture and steady aim.

Nadia wasn’t lying when she said Pidge is a pro. She can’t help puffing out her chest again. She’s so proud of her team’s work and her friend’s newly acquired skill.

“She can…” Lance starts but doesn’t finish. More like _forgets_ to finish. He’s so enthralled by the sight before him, he probably hasn’t realized he spoke up.

“Yep,” she answers anyway, to which Ina adds, “Four point two enemies per minute. Eighty-two percent accuracy. Sixty-eight percent headshots, twenty-four percent torso, six percent arms, two percent legs.”

“Yeah. What Ina said.”

“She learned from us in five days,” James says, his arms crossed. “And only during our free time. I’m sure she would have learned faster from you Paladins.” His tone is casual, but his words have a critical undertone to them.

Nadia quirks a brow and trades a glance with Ina and Ryan.

Is he… throwing _shade_ at Lance?

Lance seems to think so, too, because he tears his eyes from Pidge to shoot James a look that’s borderline hostile. But before he can speak, James shrugs cockily at him and walks over to Pidge, leaving silence in his wake.

_What is _up_ with him?_

_And please, Ina, do _not_ comment on it._

A few feet before them, James proceeds to give Pidge pointers now that she’s done with her course.

And the silence turns awkward.

It starts to weigh on Nadia, so she initiates a conversation with Lance. “So, Lance. You said Shiro needs Pidge?”

“Yeah. He needs help decoding an encrypted message or some…thing…” he trails off, his brows furrowing and eyes narrowing in a glare.

She follows the direction of his gaze, finding Pidge at the end. James is standing close beside her with one hand on her shoulder and another on her wrist as he corrects her posture, and she’s nodding attentively to whatever he’s saying.

Nadia narrows her eyes when they return to Lance. She can tell that something’s happening, but she can’t pinpoint what.

“He’s at the bridge with Sam and Officer Curtis,” he continues as if he hasn’t suddenly stopped talking for two whole minutes. He gives them a stiff smile. “Please tell her that after she’s done.” And then he turns to leave.

_At the exact moment_ Pidge turns towards him. Her excited grin instantly falls into a disappointed frown when she finds him walking out the door.

_Oh my gosh._ _Did I really just see that?_

It’s such a dramatic moment that Nadia nearly shivers from the thrill.

“That was awkward,” Ina belatedly states.

Nadia gives her a wry smile. “I’m surprised you’re only pointing it out now.”

“It wasn’t a favorable option a while ago.”

“What did Lance want?” Pidge asks, walking towards them, her eyes still trained on the door.

“To deliver a message,” Ryan answers unhelpfully.

_Seriously?_ Nadia side-eyes him before explaining, “You’re needed at the bridge.”

“Oh,” she says despondently. “I’m guessing Shiro, Dad, and Officer Curtis need me?”

“Yep.”

Pidge sighs. “Gotta go, then.” She gives them a thankful smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you guys so much for teaching me. I can’t believe you really did it in less than a week.”

“No need to thank us,” James says, smiling back. “It was a necessary skill.”

“You’re welcome anyway,” Nadia replies with a grin.

“Maybe you can turn your weapon into a gun next time,” Ryan adds.

“You seem sad.”

All heads snap towards Ina in varying degrees of horrified, and she doesn’t even notice.

“O-Oh, um…” Pidge stutters, “I’m just uh… sad. That I… have to leave now.”

“You can continue practicing tomorrow. Everyone’s free times overlap for two hours in the afternoon.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” With a short wave, she takes her leave.

Nadia stares intently at Pidge’s retreating back.

Yes, Katie Holt is a genius. Yes, she can do a lot of cool things, including mastering her shooting skills in five days.

But she can’t hide her emotions to save her life.

It goes without saying that no one—not even Ina—is buying her lie. So why do it? She’s obviously upset because of Lance. But why? Speaking of Lance, why was he glaring earlier? Was he glaring at James? At Pidge?

“Rizavi.” James’ voice pulls her away from her thoughts. “You’re plotting something.”

“Not yet,” Nadia replies. “But didn’t you see how those two acted? There’s just something about them.” She looks at each of her teammates. “I’m going to find out what.”

* * *

People, in general, are easy to read.

From their expressions, words, actions… there’s always some information about the person to be gleaned.

James supposes that’s what makes him work well as a leader. He can understand the motive behind Ryan’s actions, follow the logic in Ina’s words, tell that Nadia is plotting something when her eyes start to glint. After years together as a team, he can accurately anticipate the actions they’ll take on certain scenarios.

And right now, he knows exactly what Nadia is doing.

“Welcome to the training hall,” she tells Pidge and Lance with a sweeping flourish of her hands. “Time for holographic campaign simulations, Pidge.”

“What am I doing here again?” Lance asks then immediately backtracks, “Not to say I’m not okay with it or anything.”

“We’re short one person. Campaigns require working in pairs.” She sends James a pointed look. “Right?”

Wrong, but for the sake of her plot, he answers a “Yeah.”

She grins and nods, taking out three white strings of different lengths from her pocket. She aligns the ends and covers the middle parts with her palms. “Okay, now pick one end and tug on it.”

Ina and Ryan glance at him, their question clear: _‘Are you really letting her do this?’_

James replies with an amused smile and a shrug. _‘Why not?’_ He pinches one end and pulls. If he’s seen through Nadia’s plan correctly, the one who tugs on the other end should be…

Pidge smiles up at him. “Looks like we’re a team.”

He suppresses a smirk. “Looking forward to it.”

His spine suddenly tingles with the sensation of being watched, and he catches the tail-end of Lance’s glare before he turns away to prepare with Nadia. The smug amusement gets the better of James. He allows himself to smirk.

Being able to read people isn’t limited to his team, of course. How else will he predict Hunk and Keith’s infiltration plan if not for the knowledge that Hunk is terrified for his family and Keith is the reckless, ride-or-die type of guy who would go with his friend? How else will he find out that Curtis has a crush on Captain Shirogane if he hasn’t noticed Curtis’ lingering looks on the Captain? How else will he realize that Pidge has feelings for Lance if he hasn’t seen her face _glow_ when he tells her that Lance is watching her and then fall when she finds him leaving, his back turned towards her? How else will he know that Lance likes her back if not for Lance’s obviously jealous glares at him?

How else will he establish that they don’t know their feelings are mutual if not for the stolen, pining glances every so often?

Nadia chooses a campaign that James holds the best record for. No doubt she intends to gauge Lance’s reaction when they lose to James and Pidge. She’s on the right track; Lance’s jealousy will be aggravated if he thinks that James and Pidge’s teamwork is the sole reason for their sure win, and his feelings will become more apparent.

James prepares his blaster, showily helps Pidge prepare hers, then leads her to their starting point.

“We’re ready, Rizavi, Lance.”

He hopes Nadia catches on soon. Maybe then she’ll be more perceptive of the subtler cues around her. Like his advances that she always unintentionally deflects without even knowing.

* * *

Ryan is an observer of life, a spectator of the world through and through. If he were to compare himself to something, he’d be a sponge that absorbs everything and gives nothing away unless pressed.

But after bearing witness to the same unchanging event so many times, he’s just about ready to _talk_. After all, even sponges can only absorb so much before the excess spills out.

“Nooo, I’m too late!”

His eyes dart towards the newcomer.

Hunk has stopped by the training hall, hands holding a tray with two glasses of probably milkshake, gaze fixed on the competing pairs in the middle of a campaign simulation, James and Nadia versus Pidge and Lance. “I wanted them to taste-test…” He casts his eyes down in a slight pout. After a few moments, he looks at Ryan and Ina with hopeful eyes. “Hey, maybe you guys can do it? Tell me what you think. And be honest; I promise not to get offended.” He raises the tray towards them.

They take it without question.

“Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

It’s no secret that Hunk is a genius chef who loves cooking and knows his yeast, much like Ryan. Ryan can never doubt anyone who knows their yeast.

True enough, the milkshake tastes divine, and he says so, Ina’s agreement following close.

Hunk chuckles pleasantly. “That’s great. I was experimenting with the proportion of the ingredients to accommodate this alien vanilla that adds a distinct tang.”

The buzzer goes off to mark the end of the campaign. The three of them redirect their attention to the simulation zone. Nadia, James, Lance, and Pidge huddle together before the performance analyzer, waiting for the results.

Despite not seeing the results the moment they appear, it’s easy for Ryan to see who won.

Rather, it’s easy to _hear_ who won.

"Yeah!!" Pidge and Lance cry out, pumping their fists in victory.

"We did it, Pidge!" Lance says. Beaming, Pidge turns to him and raises her arms for what seems to be a hug. He drops his gun and holds out his hands towards her waist. Then they both freeze mid-action and abruptly turn away from each other, Lance scratching the back of his neck before picking up his gun.

Irk bubbles in Ryan's chest. He's honestly tired of watching them do this every single time they win.

"They're so... _awkward_ with each other," he comments as he returns his glass.

"Ugh. Tell me about it," Hunk whines. "Imagine seeing them, like, _every day_."

Ryan releases a fed-up, sympathetic grunt.

God forbid.

* * *

Ina’s brain isn’t wired to read social cues.

What it _is_ wired for are observation and analysis, and she depends on her rapid processing skills to assess the situation, approximate the meaning of the social cues from previous experience, and act accordingly. Her approximations don’t always reach the acceptable level of correctness, which leads to inappropriate responses, but her team has helped her greatly with that. By observing Ryan’s body language, watching Nadia’s ever-changing expressions, and listening to James’ simplified explanations, Ina’s approximations and understanding of human behavior have increased in accuracy by sixty-seven percent.

She’s always thought that her current level of comprehension is sufficient to keep up with most situations.

Lance’s and Pidge’s recent changes in behavior, however, are making her think otherwise.

They behave as they normally do outside each other’s presence. They work in perfect sync when working together as Paladins or partners during campaign simulations. But once their tasks are done, they oscillate between acting like best friends and barely being able to make eye contact. The behavioral changes have no apparent trend or pattern that she can follow in order to act properly or say anything other than “The atmosphere is very tense and awkward.” when they behave aberrantly.

Ina has never encountered their confusing behavior before; it mildly frustrates her that she doesn’t have enough information for a proper analysis.

“What are you guys?” she finally blurts out one day as the three of them watch James and Hunk compete against Nadia and Ryan on the simulator.

Pidge and Lance share a look that she’s learned indicates uncertainty.

“We’re…” Lance begins to say.

“We’re uh…” Pidge begins at the same time.

“Friends?” “Humans?”

They look at each other again, this time with mirroring frowns.

He puts both hands on his hips. “Really, Pidge? Humans?”

Pidge crosses her arms and glares up at him. “Ina asked what we are! Obviously, we’re humans!”

“Of _course_ we’re humans! She’s obviously asking how we’re related to each other!”

It occurs to Ina that they’ve left her out of the conversation, as if they’ve forgotten that she’s there with them. She takes the opportunity to study their interaction to derive her own conclusion.

“But we’re not related to each other! You’re from Cuba and I’m part-Italian!”

“Argh! Not _that_ kind of related!”

“Can you _please_ be a bit more specific?!”

“She’s asking what our relationship is!”

Ina, who’s been quietly following their quick back-and-forth with her eyes, almost gets a whiplash when Pidge doesn’t retort. Upon further observation, she’s gone completely still as well.

“We don’t have a relationship, Lance.” Pidge’s voice is devoid of the heat and energy of her previous counterarguments.

Ina notices Lance’s foot twitch—to step towards Pidge, she deduces—but it ends up staying in place. “We’re friends… right?” he returns, tone quiet and somewhat… pleading?

She tilts her head in confusion.

Pidge bows her head, her bangs and glasses obscuring her face. “Friends. Right.” With her head hung low, she misses the way Lance momentarily winces at her words.

For what reason, Ina can’t figure out.

After a deep inspiration, Pidge turns to her, smiling but also not really smiling. “Either way, does that answer your question, Ina?”

Ina’s eyes dart from Pidge to Lance back to Pidge again as her mind reaches a conclusion.

“Yeah. Partly.”

_These two are complicated._

* * *

“Pidge!” Cadet—no, Paladin Lance bellows as he barges into the Green Lion’s hangar. The door hisses angrily closed behind him—if that’s even possible.

Curtis knows why he’s here. Intel of Paladin Pidge’s secret mission has been leaked to him somehow. This only proves that the IGF-Atlas crew isn’t as tight as Captain Shirogane and Commander Holt are hoping, and all the more the necessity for all the moles to be baited and weeded out before launching.

Seeing the shocked, panicked expression on Paladin Pidge’s face, Curtis decides to intercept Paladin Lance’s approach.

“Paladin Pidge is busy,” he explains, not budging when the Blue Paladin tries to push past him.

“Isn’t she always? Aren’t we all?” Paladin Lance all but growls. “Maybe since she’s spending too much time on secret missions behind everyone’s backs, she’d make a little time to explain why she’s doing everything without her Team.” Not once does his glare leave Paladin Pidge, who stands frozen behind Curtis.

Curtis tries to reason again: “You have to understand—”

“I won’t understand without a proper explanation.”

“Now is not—” A small hand rests on his arm to stop him. He looks back at Paladin Pidge in surprise.

“It’s fine, Officer. Can you give us a dobosh—I mean, a minute?” She gives him a slight smile that disappears as her gaze shifts to the Paladin he’s still restraining.

“Are you sure?” he asks, regarding her with concern. “You only have a ten-minute allowance, and you should have taken off three minutes a—”

“I’m still at a safe margin,” she assures. “I promise I won’t take long.”

Curtis glances at the still-enraged Paladin Lance. He doubts that very much. Nonetheless, he sighs and capitulates, resolving to call the Captain should an argument arise and interfere with the mission. “Okay,” he says, retreating to a distance that somewhat allows privacy but also alerts him of any brewing conflict.

It’s not that he questions the two’s friendship; it’s just that the air around them is so charged that he’s not sure he can intervene at any point anymore. The tension has only increased after he’s given them some room to talk.

Maybe it’s better to summon the Captain now.

Curtis murmurs into his communicator, “Captain, there’s potential trouble in the Green Lion’s hangar.”

A reply crackles softly from the headpiece. _“On my way.”_

“I don’t have time to explain anything other than I’m on a secret mission,” Paladin Pidge says, drawing his attention back to the pair. “The fact that you know about it means I’m not done with it yet.”

“What’s the mission?”

“Classified. It’s called _secret_ for a reason, Lance.”

“Where are you going?”

“Classified.”

“Who’s your support?”

“Green.”

“Green?! Pidge, have you been going off alone?!”

“Yeah. So?” she answers defiantly, but her hand moves to grip her forearm in a defensive gesture as Paladin Lance’s anger mounts.

“What do you mean ‘so’?! Why is no one backing you up?!”

The quiet hiss of the hangar doors heralds the Captain’s arrival. In seconds, Captain Shirogane has reached his side and is watching the argument with worried eyes. “How many minutes until Pidge’s time is up?”

He checks his timer. “Seven.”

Captain Shirogane sighs. “Let’s give them five. I have a feeling they need this talk.”

Curtis knits his brows and looks at his Captain. “Not to be insubordinate, sir, but are you sure?”

“No. But let’s hope I’m right.”

“…the more people who know, the more the mission is compromised. Besides, Green and I specialize at stealth—”

“You didn’t think to ask anyone on the Team—”

“Everyone’s busy or can’t keep a secret. Look, I _don’t_ have time—”

“You could’ve asked me for support, Pidge! I’m not as busy and I can—”

“Can _what_? I can read your thoughts on your face and body language, Lance! You can’t keep something top secret for so long without arousing suspicion! Why are you here, anyway?! If there’s anyone who needs your support, it’s _Allura_, so go support her instead of wasting my time!!” Paladin Pidge erupts, her words reverberating harshly around the hangar.

Heavy silence falls soon after.

Curtis catches the flash of hurt on Paladin Lance’s face before he turns his head away, the tension in his body evident through the clenched fists at his sides. Curtis barely hears the next words, subdued as they are: “Don’t tell me what to do, Pidge.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

Paladin Pidge spins on her heel then and walks briskly towards her Lion. “I’m ready to go, Officer. Hey, Shiro,” she manages to murmur as she passes them.

Behind her, Paladin Lance has yet to lift his head or move.

Curtis looks worriedly at his Captain, unsure if this is the outcome they were supposed to hope for. Troubled eyes meet his.

The launch sequence begins its countdown.

When it reaches zero, Curtis realizes that he may have just witnessed the end of a friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April Fool's Day! There's no joke, though. I'm just a real fool for this show and this pairing. XD Thanks for reading!


End file.
